Non Omnis Moriar
by AkaiArsony
Summary: Your time is limited. Remember, you are but mortal. And to save the world you so love, you have no other option but to relinquish it. Transcend the gods, and change the tale of misery; of death; of despair; of fear; and of love. Only time will tell, if truly not all of you will perish from this world (Pairings undecided. Author is also perplexed as to what will happen. Hahaha).
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: **ATLUS owns the whole Persona series. I do not.

* * *

"Ah, we've been expecting your arrival. Albeit, not like this, Young Master."

_Where was I . . . ?_

_Who are . . . ?_

"It seems that a certain being has taken upon itself to change your fate, and our Master smiles upon this event, allowing himself the benefit of a doubt towards his cohort. Nevertheless, no matter how much it will change you, we servants of the Soul will continue to aid you."

_Velvet . . . blue?_

_Everything swirled . . . can't see straight . . ._

_I wanna hurl . . . So dizzy . . ._

"Forgive us, but time runs short. Your new benefactor insists that he guides you himself, however reckless our side sees his plan. Until we meet again, Young Master . . . "

_I wanna . . . sleep . . ._

* * *

_. . ._

"Nnngghh . . ."

"Hmph. Finally decided to wake up, have you? Took you long enough."

" . . . ?"

The lad squinted, adjusting his eyes to the bright glare of the lights. His sight showed him that he was in a bleak room with only a television, a small table, and a vase for furniture. Van Gogh's _Starry Night_ was hung by the wall, and he felt warmth from the sheets that draped him while he lay on a soft bed. A steady beeping sound came from a monitor near him, and the feel of the needle stuck into him connected to an IV drip was something unfamiliar to his system.

He then sat up on the bed, and turned to the side opposite the monitor to see a man dressed in a black turtleneck under a grey coat, with matching dark slacks and black shoes. His black hair was cut and comb neatly, with the greying sides hinting of his age, and his eyes were hidden by a pair of reddish sunglasses. A newspaper was neatly folded on his lap, with the page on the crossword section. He twiddled the slim, silver pen on his hand, and stared at the bedridden lad with a boorish expression.

"I was hoping for a more expressive wake up call, you know? Man, _that guy_ was right when he said you weren't one for emotional display, but to think it would be like this—oh well. I guess you already know that you're free from your job for now."

" . . . You don't have to remind me. So, what's next?"

The man in dark sunglasses chuckled. "Straight to the point, aren't we? Well, we'll be—no, it's more appropriate to say that _you'll_ be messing with time. Oh, and expect the repercussions early on. Of course, that goes without saying—"

"It's fine, I already know. _He _told me earlier about this. There's just . . . no turning back." The lad cast his head down, a grim visage painting his face. He clearly understood the importance of this, and if he plays his cards right, then everything can be changed.

Deaths undone and sacrifices avoided.

The lad's company stood up, and rolled the newspaper; carrying it under his right arm. He produced a fedora from thin air, and topped his head. ". . . Just to confirm it, and this'll be the last time you'll have to answer—are you really sure about this? Even _we_ don't know what can happen."

The lad settled back on his bed, and then closed his eyes. "I am. I won't hesitate now. Do it."

The man pulled out a card from his pocket and placed it next to the lad, then snapped the fingers of his free hand, and a split second later, a monstrous earthquake shook the room. The walls cracked, and the floor began crumbling down. Debris from the ceiling fell, but none managed to fall on the lad. His eyes remained closed, and his conscious was gripped by sleep.

The man calmly walked towards the still standing door, which glowed eerily blue. He stuck a distinct key into the keyhole, twisted it, and opened the blue exit. He then tipped his hat, and his lips curled ever so slightly as he watched the lad on the hospital bed.

"You're no longer the Seal, but the power of the Universe still swirls within you, waiting for the way you'll be redefining fate . . . Let's see how you'll alter the tale for this loop, Minato Arisato."

* * *

Minato, who was sprawled upon the steel floor of an unknown abode, came to.

The sound of an explosion rang in his ears, and a small quake shook him well enough to regain shreds of his muddled conscious.

His eyes fluttered open slowly, and the moment his gaze fixated on the darkness ahead of him, vertigo assaulted him. His body cringed as he slowly hoisted himself up, trying to grope around for whatever support he may find in the shadowy place.

Finally, he got up to his feet after using a cold, metallic chair that he had found just a bit ahead of him. The lad blinked rapidly, trying to distract himself of the searing pain that crept through the muscles of his head. Whatever was left in his nigh empty stomach threatened to make its way up his throat, but he steeled himself in holding it back.

_Focus. Calm yourself. Where is this place?_

As his obsidian eyes acquainted itself with the dark around him, he was able to make out objects and furniture. Multiple chairs lined up against three rectangular tables placed next to each other, and cabinets with bottles, vials, beakers, and flasks stood by a far side by the wall. A faint scent of a chemical permeated the air, and a mannequin of sorts was placed in a container standing by another side. Boxes and crates were lined up near it.

The lad's curiosity got the better of him, and he began crawling towards the mannequin. As he reached it, the effigy was placed in some sort of metallic sarcophagus. Minato's hand moved to touch the figure, but his touch was obstructed by a smooth, flat surface. Glass, he presumed. His hand moved to the side of the container, and from the feel of the characters his hand passed on an engraving of some kind, he made out the line "MODEL G5: ASW LBR-031". On the floor near the figure were shapes of various tools, which he was able to make out in the dark.

_I smell oil . . . gunpowder . . . and alcohol?_

Minato conjectured that this must be some sort of laboratory or anything of similarity, as heavily hinted by the multiple items he had taken notice of. He then shook his head, still disoriented from the throbbing headache that pounded on his skull. Eyeing what looked like a door that lead out of the place, he staggered towards the promising exit.

While he moved towards the door, he felt weight in his right hand and discovered that he had been carrying something—and from its balance, it seemed to be long. It was cold to the touch, and as he felt the length of the side, he could feel sharpness touch the skin of his fingers. Branch-like swirls that tangled themselves projected into a semi-circle on a side what seemed like the handle.

Curious as to what was in his hand and itching to finally make light of where he was (no pun intended), he made his way to the door and pulled.

Light streamed from the doorway, and Minato faced a long hallway with steel walls all-round. Long cylinders of fluorescent bulbs lined up on the ceiling, but were turned off. An eerie green completely illuminated the path, even if there was no light source whatsoever. The lad then focused on the weighty object on his hand, and smiled grimly at a familiar sight to memory.

"A Walloon sword, huh . . . With the Latin inscription near the guard, I'd say this was grandfather's."

The blade gleamed brilliant ebony, almost like it was darkness incarnate. The basket-hilt was adorned with scarlet gems that eerily reminded the lad of blood, and a Latin engraving near the hilt.

_Non omnis moriar_, the lad spoke in his mind.

_Not all of me shall die._

Nostalgia breathed on his mind for but a fleeting moment, reminding him of the days spent with his stern yet caring grandfather, learning knowledge mandatory to education, philosophies of life, combat, and the horrific truths of mankind—

_No, this isn't the time._ The lad briskly paced through the hall, intent on finding out where he was, who had taken him, and what was happening. It had only occurred to him now that he was drawing a blank as to events prior, and that wasn't a good sign of what could have transpired.

Minato walked on, until he reached an intersection that branched forward, to his left, and to his right.

"I can't gut-feel this. Gotta make observations first . . . "

He closed his eyes and drowned out any other distractions, ignoring the still persistent headache he had. The lad focused on any sort of sound he could hear, even the faintest. Tracing any of the sort could help him search for an active area, or even a person for that matter, which could provide him with much better clarity of the questions that muddled his mind.

However, he had to be cautious—he had an uneasy feeling that no one could be trusted for now.

Faint noises that resembled panicky screams and scrambling footsteps echoed far out from the path to the left, and the lad decided to race after it. Moving through the hall, he then found himself glancing to the side and seeing the translucent reflection of his figure.

And the sight stopped him dead in his tracks.

_What . . . the . . ._

Staring him back was the body of a child, seemingly around the age of seven, wearing a white shirt with a red tie under a black coat. His bottoms were outfitted with the same colored shorts to match his coat and spiked, white and blue soccer shoes. His blue locks, though shorter than he remembers, still dangled as a mess on top of his head. Obsidian eyes that were used to displaying no trace of emotion looked back in shock and disbelief. And to top it all off, the sword he held was totally out of place.

"You've gotta be kidding . . . what the hell is happening . . . ?! Graaahhhh!"

A wave of pain rocked his mind, making Minato collapse on his knees. He dropped the Walloon sword beside him, making a clanking sound as it did. He clutched his head in agony, and then a voice rang in his ears.

**[Your new fate awaits you . . . Everything else has no meaning as of this moment.]**

"What . . . do you mean . . . what's happening . . . wait, is that _you_?!"

**[It matters not. But know this:]**

**[Do not run.]**

**[Do not hide.] **

"Tch, you already know . . . I won't! Nnnngggghhh!"

**[Hmph. Remember, I have given you a chance by means of a debt I owe. He gave you a choice, I presented you a chance. You wished for this. You sought this opportunity.]**

"You don't have to . . . remind me . . . "

**[Do not waste it.]**

**[I eagerly await the result. Do not disappoint me . . .]**

"Rrrrrggghhhh!"

The vertigo then ceased, and Minato's breathing turned ragged as he was down on all fours on the floor. Drawing a last, deep breath to calm himself down, he then picked up the sword, and stood in front of his reflection once more.

_I remember . . . what happened before. I . . ._

". . . know what I should do."

The lad's visage wore a stoic face devoid of the swirling emotions he had displayed earlier, and he felt that his mind was now loads lighter, what with the burden on him lifted. He nodded to himself, and took a look through the glass—

The place he was in looked larger, and with the height from the ground, he surmised that he could be in the second floor of the building. He stared onward, and found that beyond the horizon lay a body of water that reflected the moon—

No. With the color scheme his eyes laid gaze upon, the whole place was something right out of a horror movie: the body of water distances ahead could be clearly seen with the crimson color that it had taken, and the moon shone with a pale, yellowish hue. Everything glowed with an emerald tint, and smoke wafted from somewhere in the building.

Suddenly, the ground rumbled, and a gut-wrenching roar echoed from down the hall. It sounded metallic and furious, and it incited multiple screams of despair from whatever number of people where in its location. The lad steeled his resolve, and then dashed through the halls.

Soon, the rumblings became more frequent, and smoke began to cover the place like mist in a mountain. The boy kept moving onward, ready to face whatever monstrosity it was that growled and bellowed with such ferocity.

* * *

The hall led the boy into a more open area that was full of debris. Dust fell from the ceiling as the place continued to shake. Flames danced around in multiple areas, increasing the temperature in the area. Multiple bodies lay around, mostly mutilated and beyond recognizable.

In the center of the large room was something definitely not human. It wore dark robes that looked like an army officer's, and possessed a one-handed sword that looked like an elongated knife. A beak-like projection capped its top, with two holes on either side. Attached below it was something that looked like half of a bear trap, posing as some sort of jaw. Coffins hovered around it, dangling near the beast with the chains that connected them.

What made Minato shudder with anticipation was not the appearance of the monster that glared at him, but the fact that he knew who or what it actually was.

"Thanatos . . . No. It would be more appropriate to call it Death in this state, huh . . . "

"Here, this oughta do it!"

The boy turned to his side and found the origin of the voice—a brown-haired man in a lab coat, who wore it all too shabbily, hiding behind rubble and madly scrambling across a still working computer console. His head looked like a messy bird's nest, his stubble could be clearly seen, and the bags under his eyes made the fearful look on his face reach higher levels.

The man rapidly raced his fingers through the console, swiftly pressing needed keys. The bank of consoles glowed bright, and then the monster ushered out a nasty snarl. The boy turned to look at the behemoth, and he saw smoke rise from it. On closer inspection, it was hooked onto multiple wires, each strapped on its limbs and torso.

The creature was writhing in anguish, clutching its head and wailing. Its form seemed like it was being ripped apart by invisible hands from multiple points and directions. Its cries echoed through the night, louder than any of its earlier shouts.

"O-okay, this can work! Its powers are beginning to split apart; and the metaphysical form . . . A-alright. I have to start the recording while I still can . . ."

"Wait . . . "

_This was the scene Ikutsuki tampered with!_

The recording with which they had entrusted themselves to the task of ridding the world of the 13 Shadows, done by the father of the girl who had done everything just to shed light upon the layers of lies she had been surrounded with—

Eiichiro Takeba was filming his supposed final words then and there.

The quaking didn't cease, and the sound of screams, all filled with nothing else but anguish and terror, accompanied the recording Eiichiro was filming—and hearing them sound exactly as he had back during the vacation at Yakushima sent shivers down his spine.

Minato looked on, ignoring the pained screams of the remaining people madly scrambling for the exit and the roars of Death. The words Eiichiro spoke were completely as is in the version of the video which was untouched. Yukari had managed to show them the real copy of it after Ikutsuki's betrayal.

"Speak of the devil . . ."

Minato's gaze fell upon a figure, draped in the same lab gown, slowly walking up towards Eiichiro. In his right hand gleamed a revolver, and his expression was set on a sickly grin. His spectacles reflected light, and hid the otherwise supposedly maddened eyes he held.

The man brought up his right arm, and pointed the gun at the unsuspecting Eiichiro.

"It would be unwise to proceed with this, Takeba. You know that all **this** is our goal!" his sickly smile was still plastered on his face, and this expression ironically pointed out to Eiichiro that the pointed gun was no joke.

Eiichiro frowned. "Ikutsuki! We have to stop this madness! Death is not the answer to anything, and ending the lives of the many is just massacre—this isn't some noble sacrifice!"

"Oh, but it **is**, my friend! Why do you fail to see the beauty of this phenomenon?! In the end, we're just postponing the wonderful utopia that we are to embrace upon the arrival of Mother Nyx! Why lessen the haste of a divine blessing upon us?!" Ikutsuki's expression remained undaunted; in fact, his smile was now in full bloom.

"Divine blessing, my ass! All it's going to do is wipe off life off of the face of this planet! I'm not letting you, or anyone else do so! You know how much I've been against the experiment the Kirijo head put up, and I'll defy your unholy wills to the end!" Eiichiro balled his fists, coupling the anger he showed on his face.

"You seem to be misunderstanding this. I hold in my hand the same blessing Mother Nyx shall soon bless us with—albeit more crude, if you'll put it. I suggest you change your mind now and receive the glory as we all shall once she comes with the call of the Harbinger. Otherwise . . ." Ikutsuki pulled back the hammer, and readied his index finger upon the crescent that would decide life and death.

". . . You leave me no with no other choice. Hmph, and a waste of good talent at that. Such a pity." Ikutsuki spat.

"The Harbinger is being split apart as we speak, due to your meddling. The Fall will be pushed back, no doubt, but I will see to it that **it still happens**."

The madman stared at Eiichiro with a more maddened smile, utterly devoid of any good intention whatsoever. Eiichiro offered back a glare at Ikutsuki, still holding defiance in his eyes. Suddenly, Ikutsuki's eyes lit up, an epiphany dawning on him.

". . . I see. Ohohohoho."

"What are you on to, devil?" Eiichiro questioned.

"Such hurtful words, Takeba! Take me as the angel who's about to send you to the arms of Mother Nyx earlier than anyone else here—once you're gone, I'll then be the guardian angel for your daughter! Oooooh, I **can't** wait for the future she'll be having, together with the promising Kirijo heiress! Ahahahahaha!"

"—! Don't mess with me, Ikutsu—"

Eiichiro's retort was cut and left to die in his throat by the gunshot sound that resounded. Blood trailed down his right cheek, with wound caused by the bullet that grazed past him.

"Of course I'm not messing with you. I am taking this idea into serious consideration. What irritates me most right now is your meddling, Takeba. I missed that shot on purpose. And you know what they say . . ."

Ikutsuki moved the gun's aim, and locked it onto Eiichiro's torso. "Whatever happens but once, does not occur twice."

Minato froze. Time paused.

_This is one of the deaths I'm supposed to stop. But, do I have to? How much will this change the future? Dammit, I—no._

The lad sighed, and remembered the resolve he had already brought with him here, in the time of 10 years prior to the end of everything. He remembered the longing Yukari had for her father, and the things she had shared about him. He was truly special to Yukari, and would he rob Yukari of the opportunity to once more live with the man who could always be there for her?

Seconds flew like minutes in Minato's eyes. Ikutsuki's finger moved slowly as it coiled around the trigger. At that point in time, he made the first change he'd ever do in his quest to undo what must be.

He rushed towards Ikutsuki, and when the two had finally seen him, Minato made a beeline for Ikutsuki's hand that held the gun.

_*Swish!*_

Minato spun and slashed his sword. And as he looked back onto Ikutsuki, he saw terror paint the man's face for the first time.

"Huuaaa . . . aaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!"

In place of his right hand was a bloody stump, and both gun and hand were flying into the air. Minato then moved in, and planted the butt of his sword handle into Ikutsuki's abdomen, effectively knocking him out.

"W-what just . . . ?!"

Eiichiro stared at him, completely flabbergasted at what had happened in front of him in a mere frame of three seconds. Suddenly, pain and sleep gripped him, and all that he saw last was a blue-haired lad holding a strange sword with him.

* * *

"Sorry for that, Mr. Takeba . . ."

Minato hid their bodies behind separate rubbles, and once they were secure, he turned his attention towards Death.

The being, supposedly the Harbinger of the Fall, continued on to roar in pain and anger as it was continuously torn apart by the machinery that surrounded it.

_This is my chance._

_Everything could be redone. The world will be at peace. There won't be a need for any kind of Seal this time around._

His goal was set. The die had been cast, and there was no way he could turn away from this. He had brought this upon himself, and it was time that he begin the chaos that he was to unleash into the tale of how the world was to end—

The tale that he had been living through for so many times now, that he could no longer recall how many times he had tried something else, only for the same thing to happen over and over, and still end up as the Seal.

_Here I go._

Minato then rushed out in front of it, and prepared an offensive stance. He pulled out a card of his pocket, similar to what was lastly given to him by his "visitor".

He threw the card into the air, and then the object shattered into an uncountable mass of shards that were colored blood red. A large magic circle appeared underneath Minato and Death, filling the whole area with auras of red, black, and white.

Chains burst out of the ground, and tied themselves onto Minato and Death. The creature growled in anger, writhing against the links. Minato stood still, completely unfazed by what was transpiring. He was literally face to face with Death, and he could feel its raw power emanate at multiple points around his body.

"I am thou; thou art I. Ye who came from the depths of the Sea of Souls, become the Darkness that shall slumber within this mortal—"

The chains pulled on the two, bringing them closer to one another. Death's image kept morphing, with its appearance changing into multiple masked entities that Minato was certainly familiar of.

The Magician. The Priestess. The Emperor. The Empress. The Hierophant. The Lovers. The Chariot. Justice. The Hermit. Strength. Fortune. The Hanged Man.

And finally, Death.

Memories flooded Minato's mind, reminding him of all that he's done. His time with the friends he never expected to make, the battles fought, the tears shed, the laughter shared—all of it overwhelmed his mind.

_No, I won't hesitate. I've got a job ahead of me, and a future to give my friends._

"—and seek to burden this soul for all time; never escaping, never defying, for ye shall become one with I!"

Death and Minato collided together, and a large surge of energy blasted through the roof. Green light flooded in, and the bright, yellow moon was visible ahead. Black pools of fluid began to amass everywhere, multiplying at a quick rate. The blobs of black began to engulf everything, and then began rising higher and higher into the sky—

The Tower of Demise proudly erected itself upon the ground of the facility.

The large amounts of energy dissipated, and at its center lay a young lad, barely conscious. His hair was darker than the night, and his skin was deathly pale. A sword lay by his side, and Roman numerals were seared on both of his arms.

"I . . . did it . . . the first step's . . . done . . ."

And sleep took him.

* * *

" . . . Too late, huh."

Takeharu Kirijo carefully eyed the crater that now took the place of the research facility that his father had commissioned for the very dark purpose he had conceived.

Hours ago, Takeharu had received a message that the facility was in red alert, and that the final stage of his father's experiment had gone asunder. They had unleashed a beast that was outside the control of any mortal, and all it had done was wreak death upon the place. He rushed to the location with the best guards he had and multiple ASW units, all in a desperate attempt to try and rescue the resident researchers.

And even the father he had come to loathe for the lofty goals that wished for the extermination of the human race.

To his dismay, they were too late. What awaited them as they crossed the way towards Port Island was a gigantic tower that seemingly had no end as it climbed the sky. Minutes after they had seen it, the tower disappeared in a flash, and everything had turned back to normal—electronic devices worked, the night was devoid of its green hue, and water was no longer the color and consistency of blood.

So far, they had been able to rescue a few more scientists, managed to recover the bodies of the many deceased, and salvaged any other usable equipment that was still intact.

Takeharu moved through the location of what was supposed to be the main test center, and then spotted a brown-haired man he knew all too well.

"Takeba . . . ?"

The eye-patched man moved through the rubble and supported the man who had just regained consciousness. "Uugghhh . . . Mr. Kirijo, is that you?"

"Definitely me, Takeba. Hey, you! Get a medic over here! Takeba, can you stand?"

The man in the dirtied lab coat nodded his head slowly. "I can, thanks."

The medic came without much of a hitch, and moments later, Eiichiro began narrating the events to the Kirijo head.

"The combination of all the collected Shadows . . . in the end, it was far too much to for us to handle. They didn't bother to listen, and proceeded with the project anyway. We were kept inside the storage room for the duration of the test, and luckily a quake broke us out when a sinkhole swallowed us and brought us into a basement path."

"I see," Takeharu replied. "Where was grandfather during all this?"

Eiichiro hung his head down, a grim look cast on his face. "He . . . was turned into a Shadow and engulfed by the creature he so wanted to call down. Most of the other scientists were, as well. I'm sorry I couldn't do anything more on my part. I tried to stop them, but I . . . dammit!"

Takeharu placed a hand on Eiichiro's shoulder. "It's not. You did what you could. The lives of those who worked under the Kirijo Group were always far more important than the goals with which we ourselves had concerned with. No goal is ever worth sacrificing a life over; and the lesser lives are put on the line, the better."

The scientist nodded firmly. ". . . I understand. Thank you. By the way, have found Ikutsuki?"

Takeharu nodded. "We have. According to the testimony of another personnel, and the amount of evidence we hold, we have found out of his addiction with the phenomenon my father tried to bring about. Another saw of what he tried to do to you before escaping, and we'll hold him for what he's done."

Eiichiro smiled sheepishly and sighed in resignation. "I can't thank you enough, Mr. Kirijo."

Takeharu stood up and dusted himself. "Now, get yourself rechecked over by the van of the medics. I'm sure your family's worried."

Eiichiro bowed. "Yes, I will—"

"Mr. Kirijo, sir!"

Takeharu and Eiichiro were interrupted in their conversation by the arrival of one of the guards Takeharu had brought with him. "What is it?" Takeharu asked.

"We found a boy by the rubble over there. The kid looks roughly seven or eight of age, and we have no identification or possible links whatsoever on the lad. We also found a sword on his personage."

"A boy, you say?" Takeharu mused. Eiichiro's reaction was much different, however. "Wait, a kid? Could it be . . . Can you take me to him?"

"Of course. Right this way."

Takeharu's curiosity was then attracted to the sudden shift in attitude that Eiichiro displayed. The man, who was just somber moments ago, was now riddled with confusion and queries that obviously showed on his face.

_Is that kid linked to any of this mess?_

* * *

"Hey, you awake?"

"Uuuhhh . . ."

For what seemed like the umpteenth time, Minato grumbled in protest as he was brought into a rude awakening. As he tried to rise up, his body refused to cooperate and answered him back with a wave of pain from broken bones, sore muscles, and multiple bruises all over him.

"Well, I'll take your groaning as a 'yes'."

Still lying down, Minato looked up to see girl who looked about seven or eight, with auburn hair fixed into a high ponytail and chocolate eyes. Silver barrettes adorned her hair, forming the Roman numerals for the number 22.

The girl smiled mystically at him, while all he could do was gape at her.

"So, how does it feel to be the new God of the Night, Minato? Or would it be proper to call you 'Nyx', now?"

* * *

**AFTERWORD**

I've been working on this for a while, and it's absorbed me over the past weeks. Velvet Room Inc is not abandoned, I assure you, and has had its schedule pushed back since I'm in the middle of heavy revisions and tweakings. I've improved my writing somewhat through practice, and thus I decided to fix the quality of my works in relation to my current abilities. Please bear with me.

So, where'd this idea crawl out of? No idea, to be honest. I read some Lovecraft lore, started writing, and surprisingly, it ended up looking like this. Well, looks like we'll both be waiting for the development! Hope this piques your curiosity.

Peace out.

~Arsony


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: **ATLUS owns the whole Persona series. I do not.

* * *

Revenge was sweet.

Truly, it was. People who have not experienced the full pleasure of planning, executing, and reveling in the success of vengeance wrought will not ever learn of the harsher truths of reality, nor would they ever come to accept it.

Ever since the first formation of communities that resulted in the greatest of civilizations, the ruling has been the same for any kind of offence committed against a fellowman or a group:

An eye for an eye. No more, no less.

Taking that literally, Shuji Ikutsuki would have _loved _to cut off that **brat's** damned right hand if he could. He would tear it off slowly just like how Attila of the Hun and his men did through sheer pulling power, and then tastefully remember the look of despair painted on his victim's face.

However, he had to settle for the next best thing, of which he knew can effectively drive a person into the limits of their own emotion and sanity.

Ikutsuki faced a large, black gate, to which he had earlier recognized that it had been the home of two colleagues who had contributed greatly to the development and creation of the Kirijo Group's bread and butter in the study of suppressing the beings known as 'Shadows'—

The Anti-Shadow Suppression Weapons, or ASWs.

The man who had lived in the residence possessed revolutionary ideas revolving around the design of the initially lifeless effigies in order for them to fully function as Shadow combatants. He outfitted them with weapons, state-of-the-art AI systems, integration of learning programs, and the longevity to last.

The woman, wife to the man who resided in the house, had developed the zenith of an artificial intelligence system which was integrated into the ASWs, and that was their Plumes of Dusks; which allowed them understanding of human emotions and the learning of mingling in society as normal individuals with a sense of uniqueness and sole personalities.

Ikutsuki did a double take at the nameplate outside the house to double-check if he was at the right place. Once he was reassured, he rang the doorbell, and was greeted by the smile of his soon-to-be sacrifices for the descent of Mother Nyx.

"Makoto and Miyuki Arisato; it's such a wonder to see you again! I understand that you've been looking for . . . Minato, was it? I'd be very _pleased _to tell you everything _inside._"

* * *

"You know, Erebus has been pretty cranky lately."

A man sporting red sunglasses stared hard into the crossword puzzle in front of him, knitting his brows as he tried to think of the answer to the five boxes that seemed to mock him.

Seated on a bench with the matching slacks and coat over his turtleneck, and the fedora resting atop him, he seemed like a usual sight you would see of a man taking a leisurely rest in the park; not minding any other trivial matter in the world, and immersing one's self among the peace of flora all around.

Unfortunately, he was not of the sort. The air seemed to warp all around him—miniature disturbances, and difficult to notice from afar.

Beside him sat another—a younger man with fair complexion, green locks, and amber eyes. Aside from his height which clearly distinguished him, he carried a hypnotic air around him—as if he would always catch attention. Dressed in a yellow shirt under a black jacket and faded jeans, his demeanor displayed sharpness in his eyes; almost as if he was too overly preoccupied by a grand scheme he was so immersed in.

"Do they really call **him **Erebus here? Well, whatever. Its fury does not concern us at the moment. The boy will do his job. And that wretched beast . . . well, suffice to say, he's going to get what he wants sooner or later. That all depends if our pawns move hastily enough."

He then pulled out his mobile phone, and began typing away. Turtleneck eyed his company's phone with a gaping mouth.

". . . Seriously? **You**, of all people, choose _that_ model? Geez, stick with the program a bit, c'mon."

Turtleneck earned himself a glare. "As long as it performs its job, it's fine! In any case . . ." He shoved his phone into one of his pockets, and then turned to eye the man still holding the newspaper beside him. ". . . Those crazed Nyxists should be off stoking the fire at this point. We're running a little behind schedule here, and I want that boy finishing his end of the deal quickly."

The other man sighed, set down the newspaper on his lap, and adjusted his sunglasses. "It's nice to see you working hard and all since it's been ages since I've seen you so, but shouldn't the kid be the one setting the pace? I mean, c'mon—at least let him deal with this the way he wants to. It won't be fun if it's not."

"Messing with humans is **not **about having fun."

"Being a troll's the most fun I've had in millennia—amend that, in forever. You should know, it's great for kicks. Really, _really_ great."

The green haired man tilted his head in confusion. "Troll? But you look nothing of the sort. Quite far from the hairy ones in those fantastical nonsense they feed one another here."

The fedora topped man chortled. "_Non_, _non_. That's not what it means nowadays. At present, they refer to that as someone who does an action in order to evoke a reaction, so to speak, and revel in the confusion and panic it brings."

The man in yellow shirt palmed his face. ". . . Just go watch the lad, will you? I still have to follow up that lunatic's prison break. We have no control over that psychopath, and he being on the loose can have severe repercussions for our side. What he did, it could be very detrimental to everything, depending on how the lad reacts. Leave, and search for a way around this. That, and your mere presence is giving me a migraine."

"Funny, 'cause we actually can't feel that crap. Y'know? Hahaha."

He then folded his newspaper, tucked it under his arm, and took his leave. Turtleneck walked towards the nearby telephone booth, and stopped in front of it. He then produced a blue key, to which a lock outfitted exactly for it appeared on the door. He then stuck it in, twisted, and opened the door; and as he did, the interior did not so much show a single telephone within, nor its transparent glass panes.

"I'll keep you posted on what I learn. I'm going back **there **for a while, so we may not see one another for some time. In the meantime, I advise you not rush what's to happen. Especially when that punk who's bad with jokes did off the boy's . . . you know. It won't end well. Toodles, I'm off."

With a tip of his hat, he entered the "booth" and then closed the door with a resounding clack. To the normal eye, it was as if he entered the booth, only not to appear inside.

Almost as if he wasn't even there, to begin with.

"Hmph. A flashy exit as always. For someone who possesses great knowledge on the workings of the mortal plane, you sure have such an open and carefree mind about all this."

The man in yellow shirt chided the other man whose presence was already long gone. Surely, they as the **gods** who watched over the movement of the cosmos and were brought into deathlike-sleep shouldn't be interfering—let alone interacting, even—with the humans! Mortals who lived on this plane have been blessed by ignorance, so that they may not know of the horrors that existed outside their realm of belief.

"But, as things are, it can't be helped. Hopefully, **his **bet on that **boy** better work."

At that thought, he shuddered. "Well, he did say he was going to get back at this one, even if the last gamble he made ended up biting **him** back on his behind. . ."

Sighing in resignation and then stretching his arms up, the green haired man muttered an inaudible phrase under his breath, and disappeared from the bench completely with a resounding *_crack_*.

* * *

"I don't . . . quite understand what you mean by what you said. And please stop poking my side, I have fractured ribs."

Minato stared back indignantly at the auburn-haired girl, who had appeared almost out of nowhere earlier and was now pestering him physically and mentally.

Before arriving . . . here, wherever "here" was, all he could recall was unleashing the power of the Universe and making use of the card that a helper from his benefactor gave him in order to seal the Harbinger into his mortal body. During the sealing ritual, he literally felt his bones snap, his muscles tear, and his organs fail. Pain seared itself all throughout his body, and it felt like his body was tearing itself faster than the speed of light.

No, he should have expected that. After all, it wasn't just a piece that he chose to house within his body this time around—it was the whole version of the Harbinger which he locked up into the recesses of his own soul. As long as there was no Harbinger, there'd be no complete Nyx.

"Hey. Weird girl."

"I'm not weird! Poke, poke~!"

"Are you even paying attention?!"

"Of course I am. I've been paying attention to you for quite some time now. And you'd be surprised if you knew just how long. Teehee!" The girl then moved closer to his face and sat beside him. What surprised Minato then and there was when his company then slowly pulled his head up onto her lap.

". . . W-what are you doing?" the lad asked, a slight pink coloring his cheeks.

"Well, I'm gonna answer a few of your questions, and I don't want you lying down on the floor the whole time I do. You'll feel better with a lap-pillow!"

Minato sweatdropped at the girl's enthusiasm—which he knew was one of the finer points he clearly lacked in. ". . . I never said anything about a lap-pillow. By the way, it's all black here. I can't even tell if there really IS a floor."

"It's flat. You were lying on it. I'm sitting on it. Yup, there's a floor here. Don't you think so, too?" The lad left his mouth agape at the . . . sound logic the girl had. He then shook his head, remembering that there were more important matters at hand.

"By the way, where are we? Who are you? What did you mean earlier when—gaah! What are you doin—gaah!"

The girl pouted, having flicked Minato's forehead while he was in mid-sentence. "One question at a time, Minato. One. For. One."

Minato sighed. ". . . Where are we?"

"How nice of you to ask!" The girl tore her eyes away from Minato, surveyed the place, and she looked back at him, ready with an answer. "This is currently the inside of your soul. And it's a big place, too. It housed all your Personas! Yup, this is your soul as a Wild Card! Although," the girl then hung her head down, disappointment painting her face, "it's much more . . . spacious now. It feels too lonely here."

A word caught Minato's interest. "Housed? That's in past tense. What did you mean by that?"

"Well, since you've used your power as the Universe to seal the Harbinger, you have now sealed him inside your soul. But that isn't such a big deal, though. Wanna know why?" she asked excitedly. The mood difference between us was evident—I didn't quite share the energy.

I was on the point of breaking from all the questions I had in mind. I then chose to humor her query. "Why is that?"

"Well, during the timeline of you being Death's vessel and then returning ten years later to Iwatodai to slay the other Shadows, they all ended up bonding with Death—and therefore, the Harbinger was already inside of you the whole time. You had enough power to accommodate its existence within your soul with very little side-effects. This time, however . . ."

The auburn-haired girl began rubbing Minato's hair, as if she were petting a cat. "This time, you had the displeasure of not only taking in the Harbinger, but also Nyx herself. That was the reason why your body's as damaged as it is now—taking in the personification of the death for all of life into yourself is no joke, you know! If you didn't have your power, you would have been turned into nothing. N-O-T-H-I-N-G. Zip. Not even ashes, mind you!"

Minato's eyes widened. "All I was after was permanently sealing off the Harbinger . . . but to think Nyx and her full power were taken in as well . . . how did—"

"Oh, you were wondering how it happened?" Minato nodded at her. "Well, it was the card you had. It created a distortion in time and space which summoned Nyx through the Harbinger's current power and pulled her into you."

The blue-haired lad frowned. "How was this even successful . . . ! So that's how . . ."

Realization dawned upon the lad. His face twisted not into that of anger, but of disappointment and sudden wariness. _I should've reminded myself that that __**guy**__ wouldn't just do this without planning anything under his sleeve . . ._

"I can't believe I forgot Philemon's warning before the meet-up . . . Tch. Well, I'm just gonna have to deal with this, and get better answers later. Anyways," Minato turned to look at the girl once more; obsidian orbs meeting chocolate-hued ones. "We've digressed a bit. You said 'housed'. Where are my Personas now?"

"To be direct, they're gone. Like, you know, poof! Nyx _did _have to be contained, so your soul had to make space! Well, this is the work of the Universe on automatic, so you had no control over it."

". . . In short, I can no longer use a Persona, right?" She nodded. Minato sighed. The girl then tilted her head, a bit surprised at the lad's reaction. "You're taking this rather lightly. I'm surprised."

"It can't be helped. If this is the result of my choice, I have no reason to throw tantrums like a kid just because not everything went good. I used my power to save my friends, and sacrificed my life in end multiple times already, so I'm quite used to this. Besides, I still have **connections**—just because I can't do anything right now doesn't mean I won't play into **his** game. He's planning something, and I'm sure I'm the first pawn he's moved."

". . . ."

"Oh, and yeah. Like I've wanted to ask earlier—just who are you?"

The auburn-haired girl smiled at him, and as he looked into her eyes, the chocolate-colored orbs reflected a soothing aura.

"Well, I'm someone you're _extremely _familiar with. I mean, you've shut me away from Erebus a number of times already; at the price of your life too, for that matter."

Shock painted the lad's face as he paled from the revelation. " . . . ?! Wait, you don't mean . . ." Minato couldn't continue his sentence as the girl placed a finger on his lips.

"Sheesh, what's with that reaction, idiot. Well, you don't have to call me by that name anymore, since the Universe already asked me nicely to relinquish my powers to you, so you don't have to worry about not being to use your Personas. No, more like it was of my own volition, Minato."

For some reason, she was flashing a hundred-megawatt smile that just melted his heart. It looked goddamn cute for some reason incomprehensible at the moment for the blue-haired boy. "Then, what should I call you?"

"Hmmm . . . I'm not Ryoji, since he's just the Harbinger. And that's a guy's name, too. How about . . . Ah! I got it!"

Her smile grew bigger than it was, and her eyes sparkled with such glee that her attitude outshone the sun.

How ironic for the Lady of the Night.

"Hamuko! You'll have to call me that!" Minato nodded, agreeing silently. Suddenly, sleep began to grab hold of the lad for some reason, and he felt his consciousness slip away far too quickly.

"Ah, we're all out of time for now. Well, I've still got some stuff to say, so we'll be talking later too! But you, know, Minato—there's one thing I'd like you to know before you leave."

"What . . . is it?"

As Minato's eyelids began to drop, Hamuko leaned close to his face. Just as his eyes finally shut themselves, a soft and warm sensation pressed on the lad's lips for but a moment. When it had finally went away and he fell deeper into sleep, he heard her say a parting line:

"Thank you."

* * *

"Nnnnggghh . . ."

It was an all too familiar sight around him as he woke up.

Bleak, white walls, a Van Gogh painting by one of the sides; white dividers; a beeping monitor, and an IV drip; and a dizziness that threatened the integrity of his effort to keep whatever was in his stomach down.

Minato slowly blinked, adjusting to the sudden glare of the lights all around him. A distant wall clock told him that it was already 11:30am, nearing the lunch hour at that. The lad sat up on his hospital bed, and as he did, he felt some sort of weight around his right arm and left foot.

_A cast, huh. Well, figures. Couldn't have handled Nyx anyways without a few broken bones._

He then looked to the side and was surprised by a curious sight. Two chairs were placed by his side, and both occupied by two girls he surmised to be seven or eight in age. One was a brunette, wearing a pink cardigan and black shorts; the other was a red-haired girl with her locks tied into pigtails, sporting a white, ruffled blouse with long sleeves and outfitted with a dark-colored skirt.

And both were asleep, with their heads resting on the side of his bed. Suddenly, an epiphany struck the lad's mind like he was hit one of Akihiko's right jabs, and it left his mind paralyzed as to the fact.

_Yukari . . . and Mitsuru?! What the hell are they doing here?!_

Minato's mind raced, and he knew full well that he was not to encounter any of the SEES members at all costs. That was the plan that he had stuck himself too, ingraining into his resolve that he would have to do this alone, and that the change he wished was only possible with only himself as the center of it. He did not want them getting hurt anymore, nor did he want to put them into any mortal peril. Minato had long believed that his friends deserved better lives, and he would be the one to give it to them, along with a brighter future.

And it didn't matter if he had to sacrifice himself once again; this time, it would be the last time he would be relinquishing his life for the sake of a better future for his friends.

Minato took out the IV needle that was still stuck into his arm, shuddering at the strange feeling it gave him. He slowly moved out of the sheets that draped him from the abdomen down, making sure not to wake the sleeping figures of Yukari and Mitsuru.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a newspaper tucked under Mitsuru's arm. Curious as to what was happening and as he was without a proper sense of time as of the moment, he decided to look over the headline of the paper; and as he did so, he grimaced at the banner story placed on the front page:

"**Deranged Kirijo scientist escapes after earlier detainment**"

Surprisingly enough, Minato felt that his eyesight was now much sharper than normal, as he was able to read what he could make out from the article. Pushing the thoughts aside, he focused on the story until he reached the end of the article visible to his sight, as the rest was covered by the sleeping Mitsuru.

"So Ikutsuki's out on the loose . . . . God knows what he's gonna be up to." He noted that the crazed man might be out for Kirijo blood, but as he was now, he wouldn't even be able to get near the Kirijo as long as he lacks resources.

A thought then crossed his mind. "He could also be out for me for stopping the Fall, but . . ." The chances were unlikely. Ikutsuki would be unable to know as to who he was with just one meeting.

Once out of his bed and sure that he did not disturb the slumber of the two, he grabbed the crutch placed near the IV drip stand and started for the door out of his room. Before exiting, he had noticed a mirror stand, and curious as to how badly beaten up he was (a habit he's gotten from all their Tartarus explorations and full moon battles); he decided to take a short look.

The hospital gown he wore was a few sizes too big for him. A cast was wrapped around his right arm, and bandages covered his left foot from the ankle down. His complexion was paler than he remembered it was, and his hair had grown longer and was now a shiny black color. His eyes no longer of the obsidian shade he had, but a golden hue that reflected both animosity and mystery.

"Hair and eye color change must be a side-effect from the sealing . . . and so is the skin color," he muttered to himself.

While again beginning his travel out of the bleak hospital room, he had heard a strange sound that he thought he must've also heard earlier, but failed to notice. Turning to the right, he found a small television set placed on top of a cupboard near a corner of the room. Looking at its placement, he surmised that it was hidden from the view from his hospital bed.

Reaching the television, his attention was captured by the currently airing news report across the screen.

"That house looks familiar . . . Wait . . . It couldn't . . . be . . ."

". . . locals said that the fire was started by an attack of the new Cult of Nyx which has been increasing its activity over Iwatodai for the past few days. The blaze had destroyed the whole house from which it had originated from and had caused minimal damages over its neighboring residences. Funeral rites sponsored by the Kirijo Group will be held on tomorrow for the deceased residents of the home, scientists Makoto and Miyuki Arisato, who had contributed greatly to the technological advancements handled by the Group. Their son, Minato Arisato, was officially listed down as a missing individual after authorities checked their record concerning the seven-year old's reported disappearance days before the fire . . . ."

Minato's mind froze at that moment.

It had never crossed his mind that stopping the Harbinger would actually also save his parents' lives from that accursed accident. And even if he did learn of it, he would still have run away, refusing to include them into the mess he was about to throw himself in.

How ironic that they were still thrown in like he was—and that their lives were their ticket they had to pay.

It would have been fine if they could have just lived on, like how he planned it for his friends.

It would have been fine if they just remembered him, being the sole two people who would remember him in this timeline had he followed his resolution to completely avoid meeting the friends he had found in SEES.

And now, look at where his ignorance and recklessness had brought him. Failing to consider all the needed variables, he had barely begun with his plan to save his friends and the world altogether and success has already become a very bleak object far out of his reach.

The lad slumped onto the ground, his crutch falling beside him. For how long his eyes were glued unto the television, he didn't know. Tears flowed down from his eyes, but they were not enough to reflect the sorrow that had hit him. Words and any sort of cries did not crawl up from his throat, and he stayed on watching in silent grief.

The passing of time went by gradually around him. Life was now at a standstill. Suddenly, memories surfaced from reaches unknown to Minato, and he was at a loss for how come he was able to remember memories of his life growing under the wing of his parents; memories long he thought to have been suppressed by the trauma over the Moonlight Bridge incident.

His fourth birthday. Makoto had handcrafted Minato's first kiddy bike, complete with simple trinkets like a basket, headlights, and an electronic horn. It was such a happy day.

Kindergarten. Miyuki would always drop him off and pick him up after school, even if she still had work over at the Kirijo Laboratories. The headstrong woman would ignore the threats on being fired from the job, and still prioritize having dinner out with her son over at Wild Duck.

The tears kept flowing. The images of his parents' smiles flashed itself in his mind, and the more he looked, the more that his resolve was shaken.

Did he really have what it takes to do this?

He had shown such courage and resolve earlier in the sealing, but where the hell were those feelings now?!

What good did the sealing do if he had ended up still losing people precious to him right off the bat when things were just beginning?!

"M-mom . . . D-dad . . . _*sob* _. . . Why did th-this . . . why?! Aaaahhh . . . Why . . . _*sob*_"

How long had it been since he grieved like this? He could not remember. Everything else right now didn't matter—he still ended up with a loss.

He remembered Shinji. Chidori. Mr. Kirijo. Akinari. All were deaths that he saw firsthand, yet in the end never truly understood. He never stopped to consider grief during those moments because he honestly thought only of simply standing back up and fighting for them.

And now, here he was. Pitted in the same situation Akihiko, Ken, Junpei, and Mitsuru had faced before. He finally understood the pain, suffering, and despair they had fallen victim to.

The sound of his tears falling on the floor and the sobs that came from him thickened the mist of confusion and futility all around him.

"Why . . . did this . . . Mom . . . D-dad . . . . _*sob*_"

Unbeknownst to the lad, a brunette and a redhead silently watched him from a distance, unsure of how to comfort the stranger they had barely even met.

* * *

"So, has everything been done? Are the preparations complete?"

"Yes, Priest Ikutsuki. The members are ready, and the ASWs we had taken are fully functional. The weapons have also been prepared, and we are ready to leave at your command."

"Excellent. Then let us proceed to Yakushima."

_And there, we begin the retaking of what is rightfully humanity's blessing._

"I hope you'll be joining us soon . . . Minato. Heeheehee!"

* * *

**AFTERWORD**

Here it is, the second chapter of Non Omnis Moriar. I have chosen to green light the writing of the second chapter this early to stoke a little more fire in the movement of the events. It might look rushed, but hopefully it stands for what I intended this chapter to be. Character interactions with Mitsuru and Yukari (loli versions FTW!) will be on the next chapter, since this was actually longer and I decided to edit it and reorganize the contents differently for ambiguity. I hope you guys aren't confused.

As to how emotional Minato got, hopefully it wasn't too out of character. I just thought that in the game, he never really was able to properly grieve over the others' deaths since Minato did not have much of an interaction with them (apart from Akinari) and that really got me bummed. Since it IS his parents here, and he had really forgotten all about them, as he only thought of his friends this whole time, I figured that he has the right to also be as fragile as this-it's a good balance in my opinion for a hardy character who's almost always stoic. I actually tore up a bit writing it, TBH. T^T I honestly did not want to kill off his parents, but it's needed incentive against the battle with Shitkutsuki.

Reply corner time!

**Doom Marine 54:** Glad you liked the idea. I also thought earlier of an idea similar to a redo, but trashed it since I think it's been overly done.

**JackFrostDoll, kazikamikaze24, & TheW23AC: **I thank you for your patronage, dear readers. I hope you continue the support. I appreciate it. :)

**stoke66: **Thanks for also picking up on my other Persona fics. I promise to keep you and all other readers posted on my stories.

**Nunas The No Name: **Well, there she is-I actually turned Hamuko into the personification of Nyx. Haha. There, mystery cleared. :)

**Anime Review's: **All in due time. Expect more character interactions between Minato and the Takebas later. No spoilers though! Haha.

**Luminous Alien:** Don't worry about SEES, things are just gonna happen differently. And Shitkutsuki? We'll be seeing him get his ass handed to him later. HE DESERVES IT FOR HIS BLOODY BETRAYAL.

**gerson: **Don't worry. I'm also pumped about this, so I'll be writing this as I rewrite Velvet Room and continue working on the other stories. :)

So, leave a review and wait for the next chapter. It's gonna stoke the flames even more! Whoooo! XD

~Arsony


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: **ATLUS owns the whole Persona series. I do not.

* * *

Yakushima.

It was a private island owned by the Kirijo Group, and on paper was the location of a vacation home for the current head Takeharu Kirijo and his family. The coverage of the whole island, with a mansion, forest, and large beach, was practically part of its property.

Needless to say, secrets run deep into the Kirijo—and so it does as well within the island of Yakushima. 700 meters below the Kirijo Manor built into the heart of the island was a subterranean facility dedicated to Shadow research, ASW development, weapons manufacturing, and the study on Personas.

As revolutionary as the ASW technology was, however, the number of androids they had were only limited to a hundred models. A reason for this was the rarity of the material they had used in order to sustain the vitality and individual development of the ASWs:

Plumes of Dusks.

The scientists had only been able to gather these materials off of some very rare Shadows that they had captured during the early days of the study about the mysterious creatures existing outside of pure imagination. What surprised them was the fact that the Plumes were constantly attracted to one another and could grow through the consumption of another Plume. This was the fuel for their idea of pitting the ASWs against one another, in order for those which would be left to gain tremendous development through the absorption of multiple Plumes from the ones they would eliminate through battle.

As such, the number of ASWs had thoroughly declined, numbering to about 70. Out of that number, fewer still were left for actual combat—the rest had become very unstable after their Plumes grew into huge ones for reasons unknown to the Kirijo researchers.

Shuji Ikutsuki marveled at the multiple ASW units lined up in front of him like infantrymen being surveyed before a battle. His expression was like that of a child eagerly staring at all the luscious treats present in a candy store; unable to contain hunger for just one type of treat.

The ASWs were of various colors and designs—befitting of the way they had individually unique Plumes for their cores. The weapons of each unit also differed from the other, thus enabling the creation of battle strategies for large-scale battles.

Ikutsuki reveled in the fact that they had been able to capture Yakushima so easily; all thanks to the fact that majority of the people in were still Nyxists at heart and still loyal to the Kirijo Head who preceded Takeharu Kirijo. In a matter of a day, they had captured and locked away all the non-Nyxist employees and infiltrated Yakushima all without a hitch.

"Aaaaah~! This is bliss! Mother Nyx continues to watch over us as we work on bringing her blessing unto this pathetic rock we live on!" the madman smiled, tearing up at his own words. Calming himself for a bit, he then called over a nearby guard. "How goes the management up above?"

"It's all according to plan, Priest Ikutsuki. Regular reports are made under the clear guise of the usual management, and we have the Group eating off of the palm of our hands. They don't even think that anything seems to be wrong."

Ikutsuki simply could not hold back his glee. "Wonderful! Excellent job! I am sure Mother Nyx rejoices at our current progress. Carry on with your duties then. Hail Nyx!"

The guard smiled full, tears welling in his eyes. "I-I am most honored, sir! To be of service to Mother Nyx, that is! Hail Nyx!"

Ikutsuki then prompted him to go back attend to his current task, further speaking of the blessings their patron would be bestowing upon them. He was confident that he was not lying—Mother Nyx is the one who shall grant them the ultimate happiness available to any human being at the moment.

"In three full moons . . . yes, that will be enough. Three months, and we shall begin the ascent towards Paradise!"

* * *

". . . "

". . ."

". . ."

The atmosphere was tense.

No, Mitsuru Kirijo believed that assumption to be the understatement of the year. She could sense that it was more than that, but being someone unfamiliar with dealing with emotions as she was always by herself, she could find any sort of remedy to the situation. She and the brunette next to her, Yukari Takeba, who was the daughter of one of his father's most trusted employees, found themselves come over with futility over how they were to comfort the black-haired boy they had been tasked with to watch over.

It had been a few days ago, when she was introduced by her father to Yukari, and what surprised the redhead was that friendship came faster between the two. It was strange for such an acquaintanceship to have hit it off so well so early; in a hospital, no less.

Their fathers were both concerned with an individual they rushed over to Tatsumi Memorial Hospital. Mitsuru and Yukari were perplexed with the situation, and all that Eiichiro had answered them with when they both queried were but one of no help—and it further added mystery to what was even happening.

Once he was stable and settled into an individual room, Yukari and Mitsuru had taken the chance to also enter together with their fathers. Both girls were left wondering in thought as they stared at the comatose lad in who had lay in front of them; bedridden and showing no signs of waking even if he was still living.

Unkempt black, locks that looked like sinister tendrils and a pale complexion that was short of someone who had just died—the boy looked as if he had just died. At least, that was what Yukari had honestly thought. Needless to say, Mitsuru thought similarly.

"Mitsuru, if you don't mind, I'd like you to watch this young man for a while; at least, until he wakes up." That was what Takeharu Kirijo had asked of his daughter, that same day the lad had been brought in.

"I have no problems, Father. But, what is his connection to Kirijo?" Mitsuru had asked.

"That's just it, Mitsuru—" Takeharu took a pause, as he sighed, taking a short moment to place a little push in his words, which seemed like even he himself had asked the same question to himself and answered back.

"—we really don't know."

A few days had passed, and it was already a routine for Mitsuru and Yukari to go to the hospital and keep watch of the lad. They'd chat about the simplest of matters, and Yukari would often chuckle when she'd find out just how sheltered Mitsuru was, which would fluster the redhead to no end. A simple friendship, nonetheless, formed between them, and it was a mutual thought between the two.

And for this day, they were surprised to have seen the lad finally up and about and shocked to see him weeping in front of the television.

Mitsuru finally took it within herself to shatter the unease in the room. "Yukari."

The brunette turned to her. "Hmm?"

"Please use the phone by the lobby. I would like you to call Father or Mr. Eiichiro, and tell them of our guest's awakening."

"O-oh, sure." Yukari had accepted the task with ease, obvious that she did not enjoy the heavy atmosphere inside the room. After the brunette had exited the room, Mitsuru cleared her throat and started a conversation with the lad.

"Mitsuru Kirijo. That's my name. What is yours?"

No reply. Perhaps she should take a different approach and talk about something else? Didn't boys like those hero shows she would often hear abou—

". . . Minato. Arisato."

A quaint, broken voice met Mitsuru's ears. His downcast eyes now looked at her, and she felt like it bore through her soul. His lips curved into a small, sad smile, probably a forced attempt at courtesy.

"Un. I see. Then, Arisato, how old are you?" Worst. Line of questioning. Ever. Mitsuru palmed herself internally. Goodness gracious, she wasn't good at these kinds of things that lacked formality.

". . . Seven, eight? I don't know anymore. Sorry."

It pained her. He was forcing a façade of courtesy to maintain a conversation with her as she stumbled on a way to somehow ease the mood, yet all that she saw in his eyes were emptiness—eyes completely void of any kind of warmth or passion. It housed nothing else apart from any similar negative feeling.

She hated these kinds of situations—times where logic cannot come into play and reason crumbles in front of emotions. Mitsuru was no expert with dealing with people other than for business, formalities, or the likes, and so she was annoyed at the idea of not being able to comfort Arisato.

"N-no, I should apologize. You had just woken up, and to see what was on the news just like that . . ." she trailed off.

". . . Ms. Kirijo?"

Mitsuru jumped a little at the call. "What is it? Oh, and you can drop the formality. Mitsuru will suffice."

The lad nodded. "If that's the case, then call me by my first name as well. Then, Mitsuru; can you take me to the hospital roof? Just for a bit, if it's fine with you."

The redhead simply blinked at him, but acceded to the request, nonetheless.

* * *

"Is that so? I see. We'll be there in a flash. Thanks for everything, Yukari. Take care, alright?"

Eiichiro hung up his phone after having conversed with his daughter. Yukari had informed him just then that the enigmatic lad they had found had finally gained consciousness. It was time to check whether or not the boy had held clues as to the exact events that had transpired during the supposed splitting of Death into multiple, weaker forms so as to avoid the Fall.

_Back then, the lad appeared out of nowhere and just stopped Ikutsuki then and there, then knocked me out as well._

Nothing during the time made sense to the scientist. Apart from the fact that they did not find any sort of clue as to the current whereabouts of Death, there were no clear hints as to the level of involvement of the child.

Eiichiro sighed, deciding that all the confusion would be cleared once they had conversed with the lad. He then reached for his phone and scrolled through his contacts, searching for his boss's number to inform him of the boy's awakening.

* * *

". . . It's a nice looking sunset, don't you think?"

Minato quietly commented as Mitsuru pushed his wheelchair through the open space of the rooftop. Stopping just beside of the benches, Mitsuru had sat on the side beside Minato and then chose to reply.

"It is. Although this phenomenon really isn't all that common, no?" Strike one. She knew the lad had just been building some sort of mood for them to settle into, and she'd already break it.

"I'm s-sorry! I shouldn't be saying such things . . . You have just found out about . . . well . . ."

_Way to go, Kirijo_, she sighed internally.

". . . If you do put it that way, then I guess so. Oh, and your apology is unneeded," the lad chuckled. There it was again—that halfhearted expression. She understood that it was just a mask to hide what was truly inside, but . . .

"Mitsuru." She turned to look at him once more. "What is it?"

"You . . . want to protect your father, right?" Mitsuru was utterly surprised that the lad had been able to discern it; that was, if it wasn't just a guess.

That was right—she'd promise that to herself for as long she could remember. For the sake of the man who had gotten to great lengths just for her, she would willingly pay the price of her life. Sure, that was far too mature for the thought process of a child such as her, but it was what she had truly believed in.

"Yes, I do. I want to be able to protect him in turn for the upbringing he has given, and for the protection that he too has provided."

Minato looked at her, still bearing the same dead eyes and the woeful curving of his lips. "It must be nice . . . to know that they continue to breathe upon this earth, knowing that you're able to do something for them . . ."

The redhead carefully chose her words as she thought of a proper reply. "I'm sure that you have done yours as well."

"I wonder about that . . ." Minato trailed off as he looked on to the sky.

Mitsuru bit her lip, finally knowing why his expression had affected her so much.

It was the same face her father had made after her mother had passed away.

To the many who worked under the Group, even when her grandfather was still the head, her father had gained a reputation of being someone who worked with great logic, efficiency, and attention to even the smallest of detail. He was calculating, uncaring of the most meager of losses that Kirijo faced in terms of its economic stature and manpower.

Unknown to them, he was just another man who had carried on a burden—one that no one else had been meaning to take, which was why he had taken it upon himself to carry it. Sure, he seemed like the capable person for the job, but there were times at home when Takeharu would breakdown and ask himself if carrying what he had was the best course of action he had done. And who else would have been there but her mother to reassure him? She would encourage him to go further not only to accomplish his goals, but to also lighten the load on his back. Yes, her mother was also someone who would willingly share Takeharu's burden and walk the path of the Kirijo.

It was a matter of imagination then of how Takeharu had mourned the passing of an important person—someone who would remember the sacrifices he did, no matter what happened.

It was the same for this lad. Right now, in Mitsuru's eyes, Minato was definitely carrying a cross; one that he did not have to, but chose to because he saw no one else able to. And now, he was broken down; excluding any other relative or acquaintances, he would have no one to remember the amount of hardships he had undergone in order to continue up the hill with the cross on his back.

There was no mother or father to light up his path, just as there was no significant other to light up Takeharu's now dark road.

"It may be presumptuous of me, but, don't you think they'd be somewhere up there, just watching over and still remembering you? Maybe your mother and father would have told you to not just rely on them, but also for you to make more bonds—more people to share your burdens with. My mother has told the same of my father back then, when she was still . . . here."

She did not know why she was telling him this. For some strange reason unfathomable to her, she was doing her best to comfort a stranger she did not even yet consider to be on a level of an acquaintance.

It was almost as if she had known him already a long time.

As she looked on to the boy, she had found him looking at her with incredulous eyes. The boy then closed his eyes, and faced up—eyes darkened over by the unkempt hair atop him. A soft breeze blew, and Mitsuru could see the tears that slowly fell down his face.

". . . Sharing my burden . . . is something impossible right now. I'm not supposed to make bonds. I have resolved myself . . . to become unremembered for the sake . . . of everything I love . . ."

". . ."

Minato lowered his head, then wiped his tears and faced Mitsuru. "I'm sorry about that. I just . . . feel unsure about myself right now."

"Unsure about what?"

". . . I don't really know, as of this moment."

Suddenly, Mitsuru stood up from her seat. "Minato. Please raise your head up and face me." The lad complied, and found himself locking eyes with the redhead.

"My father continues to stand up and march on, even if his light has long left the world. Whatever adversary he faced, he would think of mother and what she would think if she had been watching. Isn't that enough? That they at least remembered you, even if it was just some short time in their life? You'd have to continue on with your resolve, or it would have been for naught. If your mother and father were people you wanted to protect, then do so by doing one thing—living. While you live, you resolve yourself to keep carrying the cross you carry, behind you lay the memories of those who have gone on. They stay behind you because they push you towards your goal. They'd tell you to not give up on life, because the moment you do, you also forget them . . ."

Her arms limped, and she then backed away from the lad. Why was she spouting all this? And to a stranger, no less. It wasn't because he seemed to have a similar burden that her father also shows, but it was because some part of her refused this—some part of her tugged at her mind and told her that this person isn't really like this.

She was then brought out of thought by the lad. ". . . Are you sure you would want to waste such wonderful words on someone as broken as me?"

". . . I might just be. I am . . . not completely certain. It's just that . . . I felt like it was my duty to do so. And, I also wanted to comfort you . . ."

_. . . because I was never even to say those words to my own father._

Out of the corner of her eye, she then saw Minato bowing to her. ". . . Thank you." Suddenly, she was disturbed by a ringing in her pocket even before she could reply to the lad's words of gratitude.

"Yes, what is it? Oh, I see. I will be bringing him shortly. Then, excuse me." Mitsuru then moved behind the wheelchair and began moving Minato towards the exit out of the rooftop.

"News of your awakening have reached my father and Mr. Eiichiro, it seems. They would like to speak with you in your hospital room. Please forgive me if we have to interrupt our . . . little exchange here on the roof."

". . . Is it fine if we stayed for five more minutes?"

"Well . . . I don't see a reason why not."

And so five more minutes passed with the redhead peacefully staring into the orange sky together with her woeful company. Looking at it now, she could see why the sunset appeared to be much more . . . bewitching than any other.

_Maybe even mother watches on right now; not only watching father, but maybe me as well . . ._

Before they had completely left the roof, Mitsuru Kirijo had thought she had seen something, but was doubtful if her eyes were just playing tricks on her.

For but a moment, maybe, just maybe—

A little hope has lit up in the eyes of Minato Arisato.

* * *

He had feared being forgotten.

He had feared being alone.

Deep down, he knew that he still wanted their company, their warmth, and their help—

He still wanted his friends and his family.

He had resolved himself that he would gladly give his life for a world where he had the chance to save everyone from the misery they shouldn't have experienced, even if it meant great repercussions in the future. The consequences were of trivial matter to him as long as everyone got to live the life that they were supposed to without the interference of the Dark Hour, the Shadows; everything.

But the death of his mother and father hit him hard. It was a simple greeting from reality; that even if he did correct a few things, what was to stop fate from doing something else? What if what he did ended up all for nothing, with him only worsening things?

He hesitated. He knew that he was now refusing to look at reality in the eyes for being another witness to its brutality.

But even if that was the case . . .

Even if things looked grim . . .

Just like the girl had told—

He must continue to march on.

But for now, he wanted to just gather himself, and piece together the pieces that had just shattered.

Before he continues down the now unlit path, he wanted to just let it out for now; to cry and succumb to the pains of a world he had no true control of no matter how many things he tried to change.

He was glad for Mitsuru's presence, even if it was just for a bit.

_Even if she was just eight, she's still the same Mitsuru I had gotten to know._

* * *

"It is nice to meet you. I am Takeharu Kirijo, current head of the Kirijo Group."

"And I'm Eiichiro Takeba, a scientist working under Mr. Kirijo here. Little Yukari's my daughter. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Minato Arisato. The pleasure's all mine."

Just minutes ago, Minato and Mitsuru had finally returned to Minato's room for him to speak with Takeharu and Eiichiro concerning the events that transpired at the now destroyed Kirijo Laboratories over Port Island. Upon arrival, they were first greeted by a fuming Yukari, who complained to Mitsuru about her leaving for 15 minutes and forgetting her. After Mitsuru managed to calm down the resident brunette, Eiichiro and Takeharu had arrived. Yukari and Mitsuru were then asked to go and spend time together elsewhere while the three discussed matters.

"First, we'd like to express our deepest apologies for your loss. I even personally knew Makoto and Miyuki, but never have I heard them mention of you."

Minato bowed, finding the eyepatch-wearing man's words ring with sincerity. "Thank you. I appreciate it. So, what is it that you want to know?"

Eiichiro started. "Well, we'd like to know of what occurred after the time you had knocked me out."

Minato nodded, and then began his explanation of the sealing of Death within him, noting to himself to exclude the part about using the card given to him by hisa companion of his **benefactor **and the inclusion of sealing Nyx herself into him.

"So, you say that the Harbinger needed to actuate the Fall now rests within you?" Takeharu asked.

". . . I know you might not believe me, but that's what happened."

Takeharu shut his other eye, and cupped his chin with a hand. "To be honest, yes, I am quite skeptical about this."

"Well, I know a way we can test that, Mr. Kirijo," Eiichiro cut in. After Takeharu arched an eyebrow in confusion, he then nodded at the scientist's direction and allowed him to demonstrate just what he meant.

Eiichiro moved near Minato by his bedside, and then produced a sort of thin, silver cylinder from his coat. "This little gadget emits a light which cannot be detected in the different spectra of light. What it does is show us the condition of your eyes—if it appears the same under the light, you're normal; if your irises turn a hue of yellow, then a Shadow is inside you. We learned of this while we collected Shadows. Shadows would try to escape by bonding with a worker, and later we discovered by accident through some of the weird experiments conducted on lights by another researcher that the light produced from this small gadget revealed the change of iris color on individuals who had become controlled by the dark creatures. Other signs included the paling of skin complexion, and the darkening of hair color. Well, the last two are apparent on you, so let's just check your eyes."

"But why this, Takeba? I thought we were testing for the Harbinger," Takeharu spoke. Eiichiro then enlightened him.

"Well, the Harbinger only turned into its looks due to the combining of the captured Shadows. Since it _is _a collection of Shadows, it would be right to say that if it does possess someone, then the changes could also occur in the individual."

Eiichiro then pointed the light into Minato's eyes, examining it. "Yup, they're yellow, alright. He may be very well telling us the truth."

"Well, here's another important question then, Arisato. What do you intend to do with the Harbinger?"

"Well, . . . . "

* * *

". . . That's it. Nothing else."

"I understand. I will make sure no one else catches wind of this. Well then, please rest. We must have exhausted you."

Takeharu sighed, having gotten so many unexpected answers from just a child who had the mind of someone older.

_This boy . . . choosing to bear such a cross for a cause like that . . ._

"I'm glad you understood my situation, Mr. Kirijo, Mr. Takeba."

Eiichiro nodded. "It's fine. I . . . suppose that whatever's going to happen needs to happen, as per your cause, right?" Minato answered with a nod. "I see."

_There seems to be more to the lad than can be seen._

"Well then, if you would so wish it, we at Kirijo would be willing to help you with anything. Right now, we owe—no, the world seems to owe you a great deal. I'll make sure to have you covered after your full recovery."

Minato bowed at Takeharu once more, expressing gratitude. "Actually, there is one thing right now, Mr. Kirijo."

"What is it?"

The lad's eyes moved towards the window, and then he confirmed in his mind the life he would then be changing next.

Well, maybe _lives._

The lad then turned to face Takeharu, his resolution burning again. _I'm still not over some . . . things, but right now I need to stay true to the path I have chosen._

"There's this orphanage I would like to be put into."

* * *

**AFTERWORD**

Hey guys. Here's an update. I'd like to thank the current support everyone's showing. This chapter's another one for a little emotional development with more interaction with Mitsuru. To explain some things, if you're wondering why she appears a little too mature for the conversation with Minato is that I wanted to show just how mature she'd been during her childhood. I'd like to use this as a later plotpoint to exploit for development. Also, I hope I did well enough in the talk between Minato and Mitsuru, since I feel like it's still a bit too awkward at the moment.

Also, I'd like to say that we won't be seeing action this early. I'd like to focus on Minato's development first and the task he'd like to do. A little spoiler-the battles begin during the the near end of the arc with the confrontation with Ikutsuki. Yup, he's going to be a boss that Minato's going to own for his crimes in P3. YES.

I'll be commenting on the reviews during the next chapter, so for those who took the time to review on the second chapter, I am thankful for the support. I hope you stay tuned and like this chapter even if it's still on the more dramatic and awkward side.

And, late happy birthday to me! I turned 17 last May 1st! Here's a cake for everyone! :D

~Arsony


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